Beautiful Disaster
by AlwaystheQuest
Summary: Levy was like many girls in many ways…But where so many wanted the hero, she had always been drawn to the villain. When she first met Gajeel, she thought he was the most terrifying individual she had ever encountered. When she met Gajeel a second time, a few short days later, he was saving her life. And now, several months since…
1. Questions

**[A/N: This random idea popped into my head…Not really sure what I am going to do with it…]**

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 _Disclaimer: I own nothing_

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 **Questions Better Left Unanswered**

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Many girls fantasied about being swept away in whirlwind romances by a prince in disguise or an heir to a vast fortune; thoughts filled with exotic locations and exquisite clothing, decadent hotels and mansions, bitter jealousies and proclamations of passion, and—of course—nights filled with endless love-making.

Many girls wanted pretty words, flowering speeches about love, from the perfect packaging, a flawless facade of masculinity. If there was a physical defect, it would only be something to cause the barring to appear prettily rugged or reasonably dangerous; any emotional damage could be healed by the love of the right woman.

Levy was like many girls in many ways…

But where so many wanted the hero, she had always been drawn to the villain.

After all, a story was only as good as the hero's opposition. Place in a weak or comically bad antagonist into a plot and any promise the tale might have had was squandered.

When she first met Gajeel, Levy thought he was the most terrifying individual she had ever encountered.

No one would have blamed her thinking such. Not when a petite librarian found herself being towered over by a heavily pierced man in the stereotypical 'bad boy' attire of ripped jeans and boots with the worn material of his shirt strained across broad shoulders and a chiseled torso. Especially when said man smelled heavily of motor oil and alcohol. Not when crimson eyes glared down at her from behind a tangled mass of black hair that probably had never been introduced to a brush.

Turned out that he just wanted help finding a book and was became lost in the community library's stacks, but no one would blame her if they knew her initial impression of him was being ninety-three percent certain that he was a serial killer.

When she met Gajeel a second time, a few short days later, he was saving her life.

A moment in her life Levy still shuddered at the thought of, the star of many a nightmare. Not because of the 'hero,' who may have scared even the most hardened of criminals with the sneer her eyes cleared to, but from the memory of her lungs constricting in desperation for air.

And now, several months since…

"Oh…oh…oh God…" Arm thrown over her eyes, Levy tried to bite her lip to keep herself from embarrassing herself further and reached over her head to hook around the pillow she was barely resting on.

Calloused fingers moved her arm from her eyes, digits twining through her shaking ones to hold the obstacle amongst her damp, mussed locks of blue, drawing him in deeper and causing her legs to wrap about his hips to prevent him from pulling away once more.

"There…There!" She wasn't sure if she was ordering or pleading. Hand slipping free of his, her back arched as nails dug into the rumpled sheets around her.

Fanged teeth grazed the sensitive nipple of one breast, tasting her sweat-dewed skin like one would savor a dumpling, and caressed the other with the barest of touches. It was enough to cause her to tumble into euphoria while feeling him finally allowing himself to do the same.

"Fuck…that was hot." Gajeel panted a chuckle, weight on elbows but face buried in the crock of her neck; lips finding the junction where shoulder met throat, sending goose flesh along Levy's skin. Stands of his chaotic mane mingling with her currently tussled waves. Body already telling her that he still had another round in mind.

"I—" Levy tried to catch her breath and will her heart rate to slow, "I thought we were going out to eat."

"Yeah, but this is far more fun." Nuzzling her earlobe, his palms slide under her to squeeze her ass. "Why put clothes on when we can just have take-out in bed?"

Because former constituted as a date, something actual coupled went on, while the latter muddled the waters.

Were they exclusive?

Was she his girlfriend?

Did he care for her on any level beyond the obvious physical attraction?

Was she a complete fool for allowing herself to become involved? To say, when asked by interested others, that she was seeing someone? For clearly investing more into what they had than he did.

Was this all one-sided?

They had never had 'The Talk' and now, after so many months of such antics, Levy had no idea how to breech into that territory. Meaning that she couldn't even be mad at him when, if she tried to subtly create a more emotionally intimate mood via outing and venue, they ended up naked and in bed. Not only because she wasn't sure if that wasn't all he was interested in but also because she didn't particularly resist him when he gave her that mischievous smirk on answering her knocks, gathering her up into his arms the moment she stepped into his apartment each night and kissing her thoroughly enough that her legs gave way.

Moans painted her lips as he kneaded the lushness of her backside, lifting her off the mattress so she straddled his lap. Legs wrapping about him once more as her head fell back to grant him ideal access on assaulting her neck, collarbone, and breasts.

"Fuck," she could feel his growl through where her body was pressed to his as he eased into her. "Why can't I get enough of you?"

And why did he have to say such things that made her wonder, to potentially misread, that there was a glimmer of room for the slightest degree of hope?

Pushing against his shoulders, she eased him onto his back as one hand remained sprawled over the ridges of his lower abs and the other rested behind her, heel of her hand digging into the steely muscles of his thigh. Collapsing onto his chest when her passion reached its zenith, bone-weary and too exhausted to even push herself off him and back onto the bedding.

Later, she woke curled on her side with muscle-hardened arms around her, back to chest with the faint sensation of her hair being brushed off her face and lips feathering along in skin that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with being simply adored…all remnants of a dream far sweeter than the truth.

The bed was empty and a faint light was coming from under the partially closed door.

"—barge in here like this, but really didn't have anywhere else to crash." The voice was feminine an unfamiliar.

Climbing out from the blankets, Levy grabbed up the clothing that had been discarded nearly the moment she entered the apartment, tugging on her loose, orange and yellow checkered swinging dress and almost toppling over herself while pulling on the leggings—having thought to look casually nice when they went out on the date that she was starting to think would never happen—when Gajeel's voice rumbled through the walls.

"Don't worry about it. Just let me know next time you're going to let yourself in. If I had known, I wouldn't have had company over."

Letting herself in?

Gajeel had spare keys to his place floating around?

Levy still had to be buzzed up whenever she came over, despite the fact that she spent the majority of her nights there…

"Company, huh?" The voice was full of affectionate, possibly flirtatious, mockery. "Is Juvia interrupting a booty call?"

"You know I fucking hate it when you talk about yourself in the third person."

"Doesn't answer my question."

Peering through the crack between the door and the frame, the first thing Levy saw was Gajeel, wearing jeans hanging low on his hips with nothing else to accompany them, standing on the living room side of his kitchen's island. Back to towards the bedroom and facing whoever sat at one of the island's stools.

"You hungry? I have some left-overs in the fridge." Moving towards the appliance, he left his station and placed his companion on clear sight.

She was beautiful.

Levy would liken her to a porcelain doll, going from the flawless tone of her alabaster skin, except there was nothing doll-like the full breasts filling the stretched out sweater she wore. Standing, trekking across the tiles to look over Gajeel's shoulder, Levy saw that it was actually a sweater dress that allowed her mile-long legs to be appreciated.

Her hair was blue.

Long and glossy, the locks—more like perfectly sculpted loose curls than frizzed waves—were pulled into a ponytail that swung about her shoulders.

And everything was suddenly brought into perfect clarity.

The nature of Levy's relationship with Gajeel could not be better summarized than the smile he flashed the woman, Juvia, as she reached past him to accept the half a sandwich he offered.

Levy was nothing more than a substitute, a stand-in, a proxy sex-partner.

And she was looking at who she was temporarily replacing.

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 **[A/N: So, above said that I did not know what I was going to do with this. There are two possible options. One is shorter and fluffier while the other—still fluffy—has a good degree more angst. Neither are particular too long. Please let me know which one you would prefer and please comment any/all thoughts—for good or for bad!]**


	2. Writing

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

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 **Writing on the Wall**

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As blind dates went, this was its own personal breed of horrific. Whatever she had done to Cana to merit such set-up must have been beyond grievous. Either that or the bartender had lost some form of bet and Levy was her sacrificial lamb…

"So," avoiding eye-contact and angling her body in any manner so that it was not directed towards the man who had made her pay for his half of a meal after ordering four courses and going on about how money was no obstacle, Levy quickened her steps as they crested the top of the curved bridge spanning across the starlit river coursing through the city, "it's getting a bit late."

Her words were countered by the laughter and other sounds of rambunctious merriment filling the weekend's night-life. Barely nine, most would want to argue her comment could throw out the cliché but true statement that the night was still young and there was plenty still to do.

Bryce interpreted her desire to have an out from their date in an entirely different, and completely delusional, manner. A knowing glint entered his beady eyes as he moved in closer, bridging the gap that Levy clearly established. "That it is, maybe we should head over to my place for some _coffee_."

If the line wasn't bad enough, he felt the need to elaborate on it by winking while reaching to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

Backing away from his reach, Levy's hip bumped against the bridge's banister. Feet tripping up beneath her when she over-corrected her posture sent her tumbling over the thick slab of stone, into the icy current coursing beneath.

Weighed down by dress, boots, jacket, and an array of other such wintertime accessories, Levy's minimal experience with swimming was worse than useless. Once her head went under the surface, she was morbidly certain it would not be able to break through once more. No matter how much her limbs struggled, despite this gruesome clarity. All this achieved was increase blind panic as her lungs began to burn and her vision tunnel.

This agony was momentarily eclipses by external, bruising pressure constricting her torso as she found herself flying through the torrent of grey-blue water and breaking once more into the glowing street lights and voice filled air of the surface.

Last of her strength, that is what wasn't being used for hungry, gasping intakes of brazenly glorious air, was used to roll her head back and look beyond her shoulder at the source of the palpation cutting across the current and back towards the shore, where a considerable gathering was developing of those who wanted to help…

At a rescuer who was far more terrifying than any villain can be.

Where had she seen him at before?

The library?

A wanted poster?

Her lips tried to form words but constricting fire refused to allow any voice to escape. Instead, her eyes drooped and she was taken hostage by oblivion.

"Miss McGarden."

Levy's head snapped up; papers scattered about her cubical, at the entrance of which stood Erza Scarlet…senior editor of the publishing firm Levy had been part of for only a few short weeks. While she continued to work at the library when they absolutely needed her assistance, there had been no way she would have been able to turn down the offer to become a part in the publishing process.

An opportunity she was evidently going to waste if she couldn't get her act together.

"I am so sorry, Ms. Scarlet." Her voice reached a new octave of panic as she tried to smooth her sleep-ruffled hair into a semblance of order before frantically trying to gather up whatever pages were within reach. "I have no idea what is wrong with me, there is no excuse."

Actually, she knew exactly what was wrong with her and had a legit excuse, but she doubted that the strict, professional titan would be interested in hearing about Levy's sleepless night of humiliation.

Just the very thought of confessing to this self-composed woman that she had spent most of the night berating herself for fleeing from Gajeel's apartment—grabbing her shoes and darting for the door with a feeble excuse of morning work, unable to make eye-contact out of the very real threat of bursting into tears of mortification—like a spineless child caused her skin to ripple in disgust.

"You look exhausted." The redhead powerhouse said without softening her tone, though there was no scorn in her steely gaze. "If you want to talk about what's causing you problems, be it stress from your workload or something involving your personal life, my door is open." An oddly kind gesture Levy would have never expected her senior to offer, balanced by the second part of the thought. "But, until you no longer resemble a raccoon that had been hit by a freight train, you are useless here. Go home. Get some sleep. Be ready to work come morning. Understood?"

Levy could only mutely nod, filling her arms with the manuscript she was to work on.

"Leave it. You are going home to rest, not work at home."

Papers fluttered about, Levy was going to have to spend at least an hour tomorrow placing them back in order…but she feared Erza too much to linger long enough to gather them up once more,to accent the redhead's abrupt departure.

All she needed as a cape and a sword and Levy would accuse the senior editor of being an epic hero of old.

Imaging that, what kind of myth would best fit Erza's disposition, Levy arrived the elevator without remembering the trip and descended away from her office's floor without recalling pressing any buttons.

Please let her end up at the lobby. In her current state, she may simply wonder around for hours.

She released a muttered praise when the metallic doors slid open to reveal the signature fountain placed at the center of the building's open-aired lobby. The focal point of the edifice's structure and a known tourist location.

Several legends of both romance and tragedy centered about the construction of stone and natural spring water. there long before the building's construction.

Couples roamed about, arm in arm, while teens chatted and took pictures and children threw coins within the waters or tried to fish for the treasures of others' dreams.

It used to be her favorite place to write…

"Hey, Spazz, whatcha doing down here?" A voice growled at her side, making her startle and proving the origin of the nickname granted to her long before she started having sex with the speaker.

Gajeel was terrible with names.

He tended to give everyone he met an identifying classification and going on it from there. Levy sometimes doubted that he even knew her true name at times. Though the larger question at the moment was why he standing by the elevator doors, a frightened looking attendant at his side.

A lift card was needed to access the floors above, guests were only grated access if they were approved from someone within the offices. Somehow Levy doubted that Gajeel would wait for an all-clear call prior to going where he pleased.

"I think the more pressing matter is why you are here…" And looking about to murder the poor boy by his side, visibly trembling. While not said, the look she gave must have conveyed this thought.

Snapping is teeth in annoyance, Gajeel jerked his chin for the boy to go. "I was planning on giving you a visit, but he wanted to do all this calling and signing and other bullshit."

"That 'bullshit' is his job, and ensures the security of others."

"Some security. He crumbled like a cookie the moment I lifted my voice. Probably wet himself."

"He's an intern." And Gajeel currently looked like a high-class hit-man, dressing in a rumpled suit—black jacket, pants, and tie with a red button-up with a metal-studded belt and gloves to accompany the piercings still arraying his harshly angled face—with his tangled hair tied back. "Why are you dressed up?"

Looking away, down at the boots he would never trade for loafers, a fanged tooth bit the lip at the corner on his mouth. "Had a job interview."

"Where…Why…" As far as she was aware, he loved his job at the garage.

"It doesn't matter, I just thought that—seeing that I was in the area anyway—I could get you some lunch."

"You want to take me to lunch?"

"Yes, that's what I just said, isn't it?"

"Sorry, just not used to you wanting to do such things."

"Well, you ran out so fast last night and all…" Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked over her head at the elevator doors, "I thought it wouldn't be so bad doing something like this from time to time." Crimson eyes snapped down at hers. "So, you want to go or not?"

He offered her a hand, which hers fingers greedily twined with.

It didn't even matter that Gajeel's idea of taking Levy out to lunch being that of visiting a taco truck that frequented the park and stretching out in the grass as they shared chips and salsa while working their way through the massive burritos that made the price asked beyond fair.

A smile touching his lips on looking over at her as he wiped his hands on his slacks, not caring about potential stains.

"What?"

Tapping at a place near his chin, "Guacamole."

Damn, she had wanted so much to be cute, a task that was near impossible when eating with her hands.

Reaching with her wrist, she tried to get the spot, looking to him for directional assistance.

Gajeel kept shaking his head in confirmation that she was missing.

"Here, let me." Leaning forward, he cupped her chin and slowly licked her chin on route to finding her mouth.

Food forgotten, she wrapped her arms around his neck and eased back when he leaned in further. The cracked leather of his gloves caressed her thighs and eased underneath her skirt.

"Gajeel, someone could see us." Levy had to remind both of them has heated blood began to purr through her body. Back stiffening on remembering the scene she had witnessed the night before.

Had she no pride?

She was serving as a sexual segregate, and yet still willingly melted every time he touched her.

"Right." Giving an earlobe a nip, he pulled away. Shifting his weight so he created further distance between them. "You probably need to get back anyway."

Had she angered him?

Had his plan been sex all along and the lunch was just a means to appease her.

"No, actually, I was given the day off. Boss said I needed some sleep," she continued to babble around the questions that were assaulting her mind.

Head falling back, he considered the trees above them. "Right, well, in that case, do you want to catch a movie or something?"

"A movie?"

"You like to watch movies, right. They're a good way to relax? Probably couldn't sleep if you went home now anyway, will be rolling through all the things you have to do tomorrow and all the ways that you may be in trouble, so why don't we catch a movie at the dollar theater and then I can drop you off at your place for some shut eye."

He made the offer sound like torture…but yet he was still making it...

And Levy desperately wanted to accept, would have accepted if his phone didn't choose the moment to ring.

He didn't hesitate on answering on seeing the number flash across the screen, telling Levy all she needed to know about who was calling. Her stomach gave a painful twist that put her at risk of spewing all that she had just consumed.

"Hey Jules," and, of course, Juvia got the cute nickname while Levy was forever 'Spazz.' "What's up?" A long pause, Juvia speaking too low for Levy to hear any part of it. "Stay there, I'll be right over." Gajeel was still on the phone as he jumped to his feet, turning to Levy as he disconnected but was already moving towards where she could see his truck parked. "Gotta go, I'll call you later but, for now, it would be best if you didn't come by my place."

Those being his parting words, he broke into a sprint and was gone; they told Levy everything she needed to know and what actions she needed to take.

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 **[A/N: Want to start off thanking everyone for all the Alerts/Favorites/Comments given so far. I am still not a 100% on what route I will be taking or how long this tale is going to be—my dad is currently in the hospital and my mind has been skipping about, but I wanted to provide you guys with something and also explain why this chapter may seem a bit fractured with an inexcusable amount of errors. These I will clean up eventually. Thank-you again for all the support and please continue to review your thoughts and opinions.]**


	3. Weak

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

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 **Weak at the Knees**

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"Why don't you just, I don't know, do something crazy and actually _talk_ to Gajeel about all this?" Lucy moved her hand in a vague circular gesture about Levy's head before giggling and taking another swig of from her plastic cup, now filled with a cocktail that was more hard liquor than anything else.

"Nope, I like the disappear and never speak to him again theory." Cana put in on her way back from the kitchen, fresh bottle of vodka in hand. "I know plenty of guys who are better suited for you, Lev."

Levy snorted, holding her cup in the air for a refill. "No offense, but last time you set me up, I nearly drowned—"

"And somehow found yourself tangled within this relationship-thing with Gajeel." Lucy finished the thought, grabbing the bottle from Cana and giving herself another gracious pour.

"I already apologized, several times, for that, and I already explained the situation."

"You pimped me out for better tips," Levy summarized.

"Well, I couldn't go on a date with him. I mean…you met him."

Levy chucked a pillow at the bartender's head, who easily ducked it on collapsing upon their couch. The three had been living together since they graduated from college, where they had been dorm mates. Why fix what wasn't broken?

"Seriously, before you spiral into crazy—"

"Or start drunk dialing or texting." Cana put in as a salute, a veteran of both.

"—go over there and talk to the man."

"The sexy, rugged, mountain of cut muscle of a man."

Levy and Lucy lifted their brows.

Cana's eyes shifted between her friends. "Did I say that out loud?"

Mute nods.

The brunette looked down at her cup, made visible effort to figure how much she had drank since they started Levy's pity party, and shrugged. "Whatever. It's true. The boy is all kinds of fine, doesn't make him a good boyfriend."

"Just incredible in bed." There might have been a slight slur to Levy's voice, but she didn't think so.

"So is a vibrator, when used correctly, and that doesn't post the risk of a broken heart."

"Unless it breaks…" Can sadly shook her head. "I remember when mine did. Poor guy frizzed out right in the middle."

"We know."

"You made us attend the funeral."

"Though, I need to know," Cana leaned towards where the other two were nestled on the floor, conspiracy in her violet eyes, "is his penis pierced like the rest of his body?"

In lieu of an answer, Levy took a hearty swig from her cup before motioning Lucy for another pour. Her silence caused Cana's eyes to light with the victorious smirk that crossed her lips in an assumption that the lack of words was all it took to be an admittance of guilt.

"Talk to him," Lucy ordered, liberating the bottle from Levy's grasp when the blue-haired woman went to take a pull straight from the source. "Your liver will thank you on your way to work in the morning."

Levy glared, not sure from emotion or because her sight was beginning to go on the blurring side of clear, though she was certain that the busty blonde was taking the drag from the bottle that Levy had intended. "What about yours?"

"I'm an heiress," Lucy stated with a dismissive flick of her fingers, "employment is only a hobby."

A lie.

While Lucy was indeed a daughter of a corporate giant, she was by no means the spoiled princess any would assume if they caught sight of her childhood home. The size of her bedroom was larger than most apartments meant for families of four. Levy had become lost on more than one occasion that lasted a significant amount of time during her shared years of growing up.

No, rather than coasting by the labors of her father—the course implying that she would have to live her life by his terms, marrying someone of his choice and basically molding every aspect of her life to his standards and desires—Lucy had dipped her toes in the modeling pool for a few years, mostly as a means to pay for college when her father made it known that she would be cut off for defying his desires, and now worked as a journalist at the fashion magazine 'FAIRY QUEEN' that had been started by her modeling friend Mirajane.

"Forget your liver," Cana climbed off the couch and carefully walked about her roommates to regain control over the vodka, "go talk to him while you're still able."

"I'm not slurring." That much.

"I meant your legs." Cana tapped Levy's knee with a painted toe before squatting down between her and Lucy. "They are the first thing to go when you're sloshed."

"And, if you are useless tomorrow, your anxiety is going to reach a whole new level in regards to your boss."

"She ordered me to rest, talking to Gajeel wouldn't qualify."

"Neither does drinking," Cana pointed out with a perfectly manicured nail.

"And, if you don't get any answers, sleep is going to be impossible for you."

"Just remember that, by talking, we are not using an euphemism."

Ignoring Cana's comment, Levy rested her head on Lucy's shoulder, trying to keep a developing pout from her voice. "The only flaw in your sage advice: Gajeel told me that it would be best to stay away from his place for the current future."

Both of her roommates scoffed.

"Men say things all the time they don't mean."

"I'm not hitting on you." Cana ticked off on counting fingers. "I don't have a wife. I just enjoy talking to you. Don't root through my wallet. Don't decide your own tip. Give me back that twenty, it's my cab fair."

"I think that's considered theft."

"They never filed any complaints." Completely unconcerned, Cana combed her hair back with her fingers.

Lucy rolled her eyes, "Of course they never did."

Standing, proud that her knees still supported her weight, Levy saluted her friends before working the locks of the door with mild difficulty and exiting into the corridor and towards the stairs.

Lucy was right. Levy wouldn't be able to sleep without having some kind of answer to her multiplying qustions, before making some form of decision and taking some form of action.

Anything was better than this indecisive not knowing.

Or so she thought, until she was standing outside Gajeel's door, having slipped in when a delivery boy—arms loaded with take-out—was buzzed up. Levy held the door open for him and then allowed herself in on the tails of his wake.

And not certain on how to actually get into the apartment.

Knocking would be the obvious solution…if she wasn't such a coward to know what would await for her on the other side.

What if Juvia answered?

Levy would have her answered, but…

Hands in hair, Levy felt the pins she used to keep the waves out of her eyes.

Gajeel had taught her how to pick locks.

A rainy day between their usual activities, Levy had mentioned that she had always been fascinated by the 'art;' a fascination developed from years of reading books where all the characters instinctively seemed to know how to break free from cells and access sealed chambers. Before she had known what was going on, she was kneeling before the bathroom door as Gajeel talked her through 'feeling out' the tumblers.

She never asked him how he had acquired the skill, nor had she ever thought she would stoop low enough to ever put those lessons to practice…

The door swung open on silent hinges, exposing a dark room beyond and no signs that anyone was home.

Well, that made her alcohol courage mission a bit of a difficulty.

Now, the question was if she hung around till he—possibly they, if Juvia was still with him—got back or if she should abandon what she was starting to think was a rash, under-thought action. Taking initiative sounded all well and good when sitting with the girls, but the knots twisting about her stomach said otherwise…

Either that or she was starting to sober and she was about to be sick.

Her knees slid along the tiles of Gajeel's bathroom, positioning her at the toilet seconds before the vomit spewed forth.

And this would be quiet the conversation starter if Gajeel got home at this moment.

 _"_ _Levy, why the fuck are you puking in my toilet?"_

 _"_ _Well, you see, I got drunk and thought it would be fun to come over here and make a fool of myself."_

Yeah, not the best scenario.

Wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand, cuff of her oversized sweatshirt serving as a towel, she took a deep breath and prepared to stand once more.

She was going to go home and, when she was sober, call Gajeel first thing in the morning—the garage opened at seven and she didn't have to be at the office until nine—and establish some time for the two of them to get together for a long-needed conversation.

Then her eyes fell on the contents of the trash bin nestled between the sink and the toilet, causing her to double-over the porcelain bowl once more.

A pregnancy test…

A positive pregnancy test…

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 **[A/N: Thanks, again, for all the Alerts/Favorites/Comments given so far….there are also typos. I know this; you know this—I will get to them in the near future. Dad is out of hospital but still not at 100%. Thanks again for all the support please leave me any and all thoughts.]**


	4. Audiences

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

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 **Unwanted Audiences and Needless Drama**

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An hour in a waiting room, watching women in various levels of pregnancy come and go…and pretending to read through the array of women's magazines the waiting room had available when he wanted to pretend that each and every one of them wasn't scrutinizing his appearance, Gajeel came to the decision that he was never going to have sex without at least two condoms ever again.

"I'm so sorry about this." Juvia muttered at his side, pale skin flushing in mortification from how the looks turned from him to where she sat by his side, trying to hide from sight. "I just didn't know who else to call, and…" she squeezed her eyes shut, most likely to seal away panic-induced tears.

Gajeel's arm wrapped about her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side; his lips pressed to the crown of her head. "It's all right. I'm glad you called. Would have been mad as fuck if you went about this alone."

"I dropped in without notice and dragged you into my crazy—"

"Your crazy is my crazy." Had been since they were kids. The foster system was an unrelenting fuck-feast without some form of support. There had been times that one or the other of the two would have given up or out-right clocked-out if not for the other.

Gajeel never gave himself the luxury of caring about people, so once he did allow someone in…there was nothing he wouldn't do for that person. Sitting in a lady doctor waiting for the appointment to confirm whether or not his best friend was knocked up was far lesser matter than other things he had done.

"What about your girlfriend?"

"Levy? What about her?"

"She basically ran from your apartment after I showed-up last night—"

"She's shy and gets embarrassed easily." Probably torn between introducing herself when sex still lingered on her or staying in bed and risking Juvia becoming an audience to the round that would follow Gajeel returning to bed.

The thought made him smile and suppress a groan of longing at the same time.

He had been right to tell her to stay away for a bit. Juvia was the closest thing to family he had, but he wasn't blind to her short-comings. The woman harvested drama, creating it from where there was seemingly none to be had. An environment where he knew his timid—in anywhere but the sack, where she drove him wild—Levy might suffer from an anxiety induced heart-attack.

Case in point…

"Juvia, what the hell is this?" The voice, masculine and barely contained rage coloring the deceptively calm tone, clashed with the uncalled for cheery nature of the tone that sounded every time the office door was opened.

Dressed in cargo pants and a button-up that was half-way open to show the silver chain and its adorning cross about his neck, the man strolled in with measured strides. Eyes intent on where his wife sat by her best friend's side.

Juvia cringed.

Gajeel stood up, shielding her from sight. "Grey—"

If it was anyone else, the fist that swung at his face would have been broken. Because he was Juvia's husband, a wedding where Gajeel was the 'Man' of honor, Gajeel allowed the strike to land. Jaw throbbing from where swelling and bruising was undoubtedly going to soon begin.

"Stop it Grey!" Juvia positioned herself between the two, hands pressed to her husband's partially exposed chest. The women sitting around them either pretending not to be posting the turn of events on their social media—most likely assuming that Gajeel was the tawdry lover of an involved woman who was carrying his illegitimate child—or openly gawking.

Grey's hands wrapped about her wrists, possessive but not harming. "We had one fight—"

"You were flirting with that waitress."

"—and, of course, you go running to _him—"_

Arms crossed, Gajeel lifted a brow over Juvia's head. "Gee, thanks." Thank God Levy was low-key.

"—like you always do, rather than try to talk things out with me."

"I tried talking to you."

"No, you screamed at the waitress, tried to throw water in her face, and then went running out when I stopped you and told you to apologize."

"She was trying to steal you from me."

"She asked if I wanted dessert."

"Don't act like you don't know what that means."

"How did you know we were here?" Gajeel broke through what seemed like a spiraling situation to wrap up this particular brand of public humiliation.

Grey looked away.

Gajeel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Did you track her phone?"

"I learned that trick from her."

Every time Gajeel spent more than half day with Juvia, his world somehow ended up in some kind of ridiculous situation equal or greater in nature than the current one he found himself.

Grey's voice dropped, one hand going from his wife's wrist to her waist. "Why didn't you call me when you found out?"

"I was scared."

Dark eyes searched her face, "Of what?"

"We-We never spoke about having kids."

Grey's eyes gentles, releasing her other wrist to cradle her chin. "That doesn't mean you should be _scared_ about this…or that I wouldn't see this as good news."

Juvia melted into his touch, right as the window opened that separated the waiting room—which was starting to feel like the set of some cheesy show that lonely housewives watched, how could Grey say such fucking cheese without losing access to his balls—and the official exam rooms.

"Juvia Lockser-Fullbuster?" The receptionist at least pretended not to have been waiting for the scene to end before calling out the name.

Gajeel half expected all near to break into applause as, hand in hand, the couple walked towards the door to meet with the doctor.

His purpose there complete, Gajeel gave Juvia a flick of his fingers as a wave and salute of luck when she spared him a glance over her shoulder to mouth _"Thank-you."_

Hand already in pocket, pulling out his phone where Levy's number was on speed dial…

His plan was to call her up to see if they could pick-up where they were interrupted in the park. Though, instead of wasting money on twenty-dollars in snacks only worth five, he hoped she could be convinced that a rental on his couch could be just as good.

His plan failed when her phone kept going straight to voice mail.

Was her phone off?

That wasn't like her at all…

Nor was the sight of her, his innocent little bookworm, standing on a counter of a bar only two blocks from Gajeel's apartment. A developing pyramid of up-turned shot glasses in danger of being knocked over as she staggered, finishing a fresh one, to the cheers of the crowd, predominately consisting of men, stationed about her post

What…

The…

Fuck…

Those were the first words out of his mouth on storming through the door; the disturbance causing Levy to trip and topple into the arms of one of the horny fucks who had been oogling how her ass filled out the leggings she wore with the oversized knitted top, having changed from the sensible skirt and blouse she had been wearing at the office.

Gajeel shoved his way towards where she landed, giggling. The lout placing her back on her feet but far slower than necessary, hands lingering under the pretense of making use of the opening presented in ensuring that she was 'stable' enough to stand on her own.

Though the ass-hat seemed to have enough sense to back off when Gajeel muscled his way between the two, taking Levy by the shoulders and knelt his head so he could look at her glazed-over eyes.

"Levy…hey," his thumb slopped along her throat to tilt her chin up towards him when her head wanted to droop. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Was that from the alcohol or had she been crying? "What are you doing here?"

Stumbling back, she bounced against the counter with a snort, blindly reaching for a fresh shot, which Gajeel took out of her hand and passed back to the bartender with a warning look. "Celebrating my new relationship status."

"What?"

"Well, seeing that you're having so much fun playing house with Juvia," she took a pint out of the hands of her admirer, who, though having backed-off, was still hovering close enough that snagging his drink was not a difficult task she her short arms, "figured I should take the hint and make more stupid life choices."

She saluted him with the glass, which he also took from her before it touched her lips and placed back on the counter with further warning looks at any with drinks still within her reach.

"Levy—" She turned to dismissive him; he took hold of her shoulders once more. Arms planted on either side of her; hands pressed to the bar's counter, caging her in. "I need to buy a vowel here."

"Hey…um…is he bothering you." Horny bastard tried to edge his way back into the conversation and into Levy's notice.

"Bothering her?" Gajeel narrowed his eyes, causing the spineless fuck to flinch back. "I'm her boyfriend—"

Levy snorted with a dark, dishumored laugh.

"What?"

"Just found it hilarious that you're my 'boyfriend' all of a sudden. What happened? Did Juvia decide to raise the child alone?"

"No, she's going to raise it with her husband. How did you even know about—"

Levy wasn't listening, rather turning to those eavesdropping with far less subtly than the knocked-up woman at the clinic. "What would you gentlemen call a woman you don't take on dates, don't introduce to your friends or family, don't share anything with beyond the hours spared when she comes to your house, and you still have to buzz her up because she's not even privy to a key, to screw?"

The guy's eyebrows rose as appreciative whistles were sound from the crowd beyond; attention momentarily shifted to Gajeel, "Hours?"

"Don't inflate his ego, just answer the damn question."

"Well," the man scratched his jaw line, "that is what most of us would call the perfect agreement."

Levy held up a finger, silencing Gajeel without turning her unfocused gaze from the man, "Why?"

"All the perks without the obligations."

"Because you wouldn't consider her your girlfriend."

"No, I don't think the title would fit there."

She turned away from the speaker before he finished the thought, a satisfied expression trying to be known but clashing with the general drunken sense, "Exactly."

"All right, enough of this." Bending down, he scooped her over his shoulder, like a sack of flour, and carried her to the door. No one seeming to know if they should stop him from taking her or be relieved that he didn't give into the obvious desire to kill all near him.

It took Levy, herself, a pause to realize what was truly occurring. When she did, small fists began to strike at the small of his back as he marched down the sidewalk not caring about the stares they were attracting. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he grunted when she managed to land a blow.

"This is kidnapping."

"You can have me arrested once you sober-up," he muttered as he climbed up the stairs of his building, not needing to put her down to open the door to his apartment. Someone had been tampering with his locks. "Did you break in?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Why didn't you call?"

"Because you were too busy impregnating Juvia."

"What?"

She was unable to answer, being far too busy heaving the contents of her stomach down the length of Gajeel's back.

All right…looks like they would be spending the night on the bathroom floor, and not in the fun way.

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 **[A/N: Thanks, again, for all the Alerts/Favorites/Comments given so far….there are also typos. I know this; you know this—I will get to them in the near future. There is going to be one last chapter to this…and then I might be starting a fresh story that I got the idea for while—coincidentally enough— thinking about while constructing this chapter.]**


	5. Key

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

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 **The Key to Conversation**

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She didn't know why she went into the bar, other than the cliché 'it seemed like a good idea at the time.' Heartbroken, she decided that she wasn't ready to sober up and deal with the truth. One shot had led to two and two led to three...until, eventually, consciousness became hazed and reality suspended.

She woke up stripped to her boy-shorts and bra, the after taste of sick at the back of her throat with swollen-eyes encrusted in 'sleep' grit, and curled against a body far too familiar to hers…

Cheek resting on the defined swell of a bicep, she was acutely aware of fingers combing through her hair. Calloused fingertips tracing the slope of her neck and along her collarbone.

Such a delicate, tender touch.

Loving.

This had to be a dream.

"I know you're awake." The voice grated through her body. Muscles tense and shifted as long legs were stretched out, easing her to sit upon what felt like a cold tiled floor, only for her to be caged in once more when knees drew back up and arms lassoed about her.

The movement, however slight caused the angry headache of her merciless hang-over to spike and throb. What came out of her mouth was more of a pitiful whimper than any attempt at coherent dialogue.

Fingers gently probed through her hair, massaging at her scalp and temples. "Yeah, I know you have to be in pain, Babe. Head throbbing and stomach rolling," now that he mentioned it… "but I think we are long overdue for a talk and now is better than later."

Why now?

The moan she uttered rather than words—burying her face in his chest, which she now realized as naked—must have conveyed enough of her emotions for Gajeel to know what she had wanted to say if the ability to speak was within her current wheel house of skills.

"Because you can't look at me in the eye at the moment, and what I need to say needs to be done without you looking at me with those big, innocent eyes of yours. Reminds me of all the dirty things I have done to you and…well, we need to keep on topic." The last part seemed to be more of a reminder to himself than anything.

One hand moved from her hair to the curve of her spine, stroking along the length while his other continued to rub away tension at her temple, dipping along her jaw.

"I suck at talking…at the whole 'emotional' side of having a girlfriend, which may be why you are my first."

She snorted.

"Not my first fuck, but…you know…basically my first everything else. Definitely the first person I put a label to."

"What?" Her voice was a dried husk, breaking and turning into a cough. "Everything else?" What was that supposed to mean and, really, why did he want to have this conversation when her mind was running so...slow...

"You know, everything else. For one thing, until you, I never brought someone, girl…or anyone else for that matter, here—"

The burning in her throat from spewing bile limited her conversation skills to one word thoughts. "Juvia."

"Used to live here. She was my foster sister at one particularly terrible house and, when we ran from there, the only family I have. When she got _married,_ she moved out but kept the key. You see, Juvia is very much a drama-queen. Whenever she gets mad or jealous at her husband—who used to work as a stripper, a history that causes much anxiety and stress on Juvia's psycho mind—Juvia lets herself in here until he comes and claims her back. One time out of five, this involves me getting punched."

So that was how he got the impressive bruise on his jaw. Juvia's husband did that. Juvia had a husband...not that it really meant anything to absolve Levy's concerns.

Coughing, almost heaving, Levy forced herself beyond her one-word sentences. "She shows up; you tell me to leave."

"Because I didn't want you to deal with her drama; the woman is like a sister to me, and I can only take it in small doses."

Levy didn't know if she would be able to work up the strength to speak so close after the earlier sentence, so she just—once more—snorted her disbelief and insult at how easily he thought she would be fooled. Juvia may be married, her husband might even be the baby's father, that didn't mean that Gajeel wasn't in love with the woman he shared so much of his life with.

"You never gave me a key yet your ex-'roommate' can come and go as she pleases. " Her lips formed the words, croaked out of her mouth, without knowing they were spoken.

"I offered you one."

"When!? You always make me be buzzed up every time." That is, unless she was breaking and entering

"A few weeks after we started dating, right before you got the job at the publisher. You were texting me about how your roommates were driving you mad and how you wanted to go hide somewhere. I told you to sweep by the shop and I would give you a key so you could lay low here."

"Telling a girl that she could lay-low at your place for a few hours is not offering her a permanent key."

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that a formal ceremony was required."

Again, she didn't need to say something for him to understand her thoughts.

"Seriously, Spazz, do you think I'm a man who puts up with something I don't want? Do you think I would have spent the night on the bathroom floor, being covered in puke and cleaning you up, if I wanted someone else?"

Can't have the one that he wanted, might as well 'fuck'—as he so romantically put it—whatever was available.

Sighing, he once more settled on resting his arms on her shoulders, caging her in. "Do you think that I dress up in a ridiculous suit just to stop by the work of someone who I wasn't invested in for the long run?"

"You said you had a job interview."

"Yeah, well, I panicked at the time. The original plan involved me swinging up to your office and take you to a real restaurant, with table clothes and everything, but…" he sighed again, "I panicked."

"What?"

"I. Panicked. I mean, the opening of our conversation was you scolding me for scaring the door boy, reminded me of how much I embrace you—"

"What!?" Shoving away from his chest, Levy forced herself to look at his eyes. Her knees shook from maintaining her weight from where she knelt. Warm, large hands on her hips kept her upright. "What are you talking about?"

"It's alright, Spazz, I understand why. I never thought myself the kind of person someone like you would proudly be associated with—"

"What are you talking about?"

Combing sweat damp locks from her face, he gave her a small smile that may be touched with sadness. "You make sure you are never with your friends when I am around. The one time I offered to pick you up at your place, you flat out said no-"

"Only because Cana is hot for your body."

"What?"

"Cana, who was home that night, saw you from afar when we were spying on…I mean, when we happened to drive past the garage soon after the incident with you dragging me out of the river. She made it known that she would not be disinclined to have a go at you if the offer ever presented itself."

"And you thought I would take one look at her, rip off her clothes, and start banging her right in front of you?"

Levy's chin drooped; she spoke into her less than notable chest. Why hadn't she worn a cuter bra? "Not right in front of me."

"Levy—"

"You never saw Cana…Every guy we have ever met preferred her over not only me but also Lucy, who is a busty blonde who likes to dress up...basically the fantasy, yet every one of them would give an arm at a shot with Cana."

"That's ridiculous. Why would I trade in something legitimate for some random piece of ass?"

Levy lifted her eyes, looking through her lashes to glare at him. "Something legitimate? What would that be? Us? You won't even take me out on a real date." The break in her voice was from emotion rather than her throat's raw condition. "I'm just a convenient lay—"

Hands went from her hips to cup her face, there might have been anger in his eyes. An expression he never wore around her, or—at least—never directed towards her. "I love you. Someone as smart as you should have long realized that, even if I don't smother you with whatever it is that women build up in their minds as what constitutes as 'real.' Dates? We make plans to go places, plans I have every intention to follow through with. Then you show up here and somehow end up in bed with take-out or on the couch with a movie. You never said anything against these courses of events nor did you ever seem inclined against them when they are occuring…instigating them more times than not. How the fuck was I to know that you weren't happy?"

When he put it like that…

"I didn't know how to start 'the talk.'"

"The talk?"

"The 'what are we' talk to determine our relationship."

"What is it about the world that people have to talk about everything? Shouldn't actions be enough?" Levy's expression must have conveyed her thoughts for a third time, or he simply knew her well enough to know what was spiraling through her mind. "Fine, how about this for your ominous talk?" He lowered his forehead to touch hers. "You're mine. I'm yours. Neither of us share. Ever. Got that?"

She shook her head, not certain if it was from denial of what he was saying or trying to process the words drifting about her mind.

Wait, had Gajeel said that he loved her earlier?

Not letting her go, pulling her in even closer, Gajeel's hands went from Levy's hips to her waist. Lips touching her brow before moving to her eyes, once more closed, and then her nose. "Tell me how to make this work, okay? Do you want flowers sent to your office every day and for me to recite poetry when you get home? I may gag during the second part, but I would do it if that is what I takes."

And this was too much to take in on a hang-over and…

Jumping up, free of his grasp and would have fallen back onto the tiles if he hadn't served as an anchor, Levy felt panic begin to raise along with her heart rate. "I'm going to be late for work!" There was no way she could get home, get ready, and get to work on time. And she couldn't call off...

"No you won't." Standing, slowly, maintaining his hold on her, Gajeel shepherded her out of the bath and into the second bedroom that must have once belonged to Juvia, but Gajeel used to storage. "At least one of these boxes has clothes in it that she left behind. Pick something and I'll drive you in."

"Gajeel—"

"Do you have any other clothes? The ones from last night are basically ruined."

Grinding her teeth, Levy shooed Gajeel away and dug about until she found some feasible garments then—after a quick time check—commandeered Gajeel's shower for a brief rinse-off to obtain the semblance of humanity.

Not that it would help; she was going to be a mess regardless.

Had Gajeel meant what he said? All of it, including what she wasn't completely certain she had heard?

Her answer came when she opened the door, and found Gajeel kneeling on the other side. A box in hand.

First thought: How long had he been waiting there?

Second thought: What was going on?

"I want to give you something with the knowledge that whatever you decide to give, or not give, in response is fine with me. At the moment, I would be happy with whatever I can get. Any hope available that this isn't the last time."

The box opened…

Levy laughed, falling to her knees and hitting his chest for the bad joke.

A key, with a chain swung through it, rested on the bottom of the box.

"I'm serious."

"I know; your timing is just…" Sighing, Levy looped the chain over her head. The key rested between the swell of her breasts.

He lifted it from this spot and gave the metal a kiss before pulling her into his arms once more. "I'll pick you up tonight," he spoke into her hair. "We'll get food wherever you want and go wherever else you want for that matter. A 'proper' date."

"Rain check. All I want tonight is take out in bed…with you clarifying something I think you said earlier."

"And what would that be?"

"Don't act like you don't know." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper as his lips brushed hers.

Three little words were whispered before the agreement was sealed.

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 **[A/N: Thanks, again, for all the Alerts/Favorites/Comments given so far…there are also typos. I know this; you know this—I will get to them in the near future. This is the end of this story but I have another idea—longer and more plot-based—brewing in my head.]**


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